


Where We Are Now

by printfogey



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Post-Timeskip, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/printfogey/pseuds/printfogey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanji and Usopp are hanging out and chatting together right after leaving Fishman Island. Usopp thinks about what the crew separation has meant, and how they might have to adjust now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where We Are Now

**Author's Note:**

> This fic would be firmly set between chapters 654 and 655 if Oda had been considerate enough to indicate a time span of a day or so between them. Instead, let’s just pretend he did. Warning: Contains some of Sanji’s canon transphobia.
> 
> Betaed by the glorious Tonko, but any remaining errors are my responsibility alone. Nitpicks and other concrit very much welcome.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters and situations of One Piece were created and are owned by Eiichiro Oda. They are used here without permission for entertainment purposes only. This fic is not to be used for profit and should not be reposted elsewhere without its writer's consent.

"Oh come _on_ , Sanji," said Usopp, sitting by his old Usopp Factory Branch, i.e. the workshop on the third deck, now more weatherworn than he remembered. He glanced up at the cook from his studies of new ammo and old sketches, pausing to take a bite from a peach from Fishman Island. "It can't have been that bad _all_ the time."

It was a quiet day, the calmest the crew had had since they were reunited, with little in the way of excitement for once. Usopp had felt on edge at first, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but he'd finally been able to relax more. 

Sanji too had seemed much calmer today, less likely to snap at the smallest provocation or almost faint (or worse, spurt great nosebleeds) when Nami or Robin moved a muscle. But he had sighed a little wistfully over the beautiful mermaids he'd left behind, so Usopp had started to talk about the battle on Fishman Island in the hope of distracting him. From a stray remark on Sanji's new moves they got into the matter of the cook's experiences the last two years, and now Usopp was starting to wish they hadn't. It was evidently a subject Sanji didn't like to raise, but once it _was_ raised, it was hard to get him to stop ranting.

"What would you know about it?" said Sanji, lighting a testy cigarette and pacing underneath the nearest tangerine tree. "Not a shitty thing, that's what. Spending one single week in that place would have been hellish enough. Two years... it was the worst thing imaginable."

"Ookaay..." said Usopp, drawing out his answer. "I'm not saying it sounded fun or anything." He paused while he carefully tied the cloth around another of his Pop Greens, then looked up again once it was secured. "But I just can't believe each and every one of them would be–" The intensely angry glare Sanji shot him made his tongue freeze for a moment, and maybe he shrank somewhat in his seat before he swallowed and valiantly went on, "…Well… don't take this the wrong way, but you're not _that_ much of a catch, even for a tribe of crazy okama."

"Well, I guess I was, compared to what they were used to!" snapped Sanji, then sighed and drew a hand through his hair. "Shit, don't ask me about it, I don't know what went on in their shitty brains– !" He growled a little more, then seemed to realise he was staring angrily at one of Nami's beloved tangerines and just shook his head sadly. Usopp tossed him a bottle of beer (he'd brought up two, but wasn't in the mood for one yet himself); Sanji caught it and sat down under the trees. The western sky was turning towards golden sunset, and the shadows ran long and greyish-purple across the deck.

"...Look," Sanji went on after taking a deep draught from the bottle, "I haven't said one word about your ludicruous story about an island that's really a giant meat-eating flower, have I?"

"That's all true!" Usopp protested. "Nearly everything I've told you so far about what I've been up to is the plain truth, believe it or not!" 

"Oh yeah?" Sanji raised a sceptical eyebrow. But then he sighed, exhaled a cloud of smoke, and relented. "Fine. Might be it was mostly because of that stupid game Ivankov came up with... challenge if I wanted to learn 'hormone cooking'. Most of that 'Newkama' bunch that came with him let up after I'd won the whole thing." His voice sank down to a mutter, "Never did anything to stop the rest of them at that point, though... Not that I needed their shitty help!" he added in a stronger tone, kicking away a seashell that the last storm had washed up on the deck. It flew in a high arc over the railing.

"Huh," said Usopp, finishing up his peach. He licked his fingers, then tossed the pit across Third Deck to a bare spot on the flowerbed. "Well... they kinda sound like real jerks. Not like Mr. 2 Bon Clay at all."

"Yeah..." said Sanji absently. He walked over to where the peach pit had landed, then pressed it down with his foot into the soil, planting it. Probably wouldn't sprout, thought Usopp – they got too much rough weather, and chances were the soil wasn't right for it as it was for Robin's flowers – but it was fun to try. 

Sanji turned to glance at Usopp again, scepticism back in his voice. "So, you still stick to your story about some kind of half-beetle weirdo showing you the ropes, huh?"

"Hey, don't talk that way about Heracles – he's a great guy! Without him I'd have croaked for sure. He taught me everything I needed to know to survive in that place."

"...Fine. Fine, I believe you." Sanji took another puff at his cigarette and looked away. After a moment, he said, more quietly, "I'm glad you had someone you could trust while you were there." 

Usopp looked at Sanji in silence for a few long moments. Then he turned his gaze down and started to doodle aimlessly on his scrap of paper. "I'm sorry you didn't," he said softly. 

Sanji twitched. "Tch, I don't need that, that wasn't the problem!" He was tensing up again. "I grew up on the shitty Baratie, remember? Okay, happily none of _those_ shitheads were ever out to date me or put m-make up on me" – Sanji shuddered momentarily – "but you couldn't drop your guard on that ship even so, or you'd get clobbered. I'm _fine_ with that part of it, I can deal." He made a dismissive wave-shrug. "That wasn't the problem."

Usopp crossed one leg over the other, right ankle over left knee. He tilted his head back against the railing and squinted as he held his pen up straight in his line of sight, checking for Sanji's proportions. "No? Then what was?" he prodded, as he was evidently meant to.

"Nope. The real problem..." Sanji sighed, exhaled and shifted position, one elbow leaning on knee. "There weren't any _real_ women around. Not one. If there had been just one – just one sweet, fair angel to grace those awful premises with her presence, I could have stood all the rest of it that much easier– ! Just one, just one dear, wondrous lady to look at and spoil and spend time with, someone to present my new cooking to..." He trailed off, his head and cigarette drooping down as he sighed again, now more yearningly.

Usopp scratched his nose thoughtfully. "So... does that mean you wouldn't have had it any better where I was, either? There weren't any women there either, just me and Heracles."

Sanji looked ticked off at that. He opened his mouth, only to shut it abruptly, perhaps realising he'd led himself into a trap; then he just scowled and drank some more from the beer bottle. "I suppose, yeah," he said shortly as he put it down.

 _Liar,_ thought Usopp, watching Sanji's reaction closely. _That's just your pride talking._

But he didn't think he should press the issue. Not right now. The old balance between them had shifted, and he wasn't quite sure yet what the new one was. 

Oh, he knew that Sanji was still enormously stronger than him and likely always would be; he was still much more fearless, still coolly unflappable in the face of mortal danger in a way Usopp doubted he'd ever be able to achieve. And with Usopp's growing nervousness about the New World, that gap wasn't likely to lessen anytime soon.

But still – Usopp wasn't the one who'd recently almost bled to death from excessive lustfulness at the sight of too many pretty women. And while his two-year training had certainly been tough, it hadn't really been _embarrassing._ Well, except perhaps for the way he'd gotten so fat at first, but since he'd lost the weight later he didn't really think it counted. 

So maybe he had to be careful now. Because at the moment, it really did feel as if the cook's battered pride needed more nursing than Usopp's did. That was new. (And weird.) 

Yet Sanji had always respected Usopp's pride when it really counted. Usopp couldn't bring himself to feel bad about being stronger and more confident these days – and he was pretty damn sure Sanji would kick him hard if he did – so all he could do was to hope Sanji would be back to being more like his old self soon. Then Usopp would be able to mock him properly, with a clear conscience.

"What's that?"

Usopp started – he'd been aimlessly doodling and missed Sanji sneaking up on him to point at the sketch Usopp had just drawn from memory, featuring Heracles doing morning calisthenics. "That the guy you were telling me about?"

"Yeah, that's Heracles! Believe me now?" Usopp stuck out his tongue at Sanji, then put the piece of paper aside to dig into his workbench, handing Sanji a whole heap of paper. "And here's a lot more stuff I drew on the island when I was there! See? Plenty of monster-flowers and weird food around! Monster animals, too, even if they often got eaten by the island eventually."

"You know, drawings aren't really much of a proof of anything," Sanji commented, but looked through all the pages just the same. "Especially not from someone with that good of an imagination... huuuh." He glanced over at Usopp. "These are some teeth."

"I drew that one from memory," Usopp admitted, "but not long after it happened."

"Hmm..." Sanji kept looking. "You had time to draw all of these?" There was still scepticism in his voice, but not as much as before, Usopp noted smugly.

"Suuure," he said easily, waving a hand as if to say 'piece of cake, really'. Though actually it had taken him months before just training and surviving (often enough the same thing) hadn't taken up every waking minute. "I didn't have much paper to start with, though," he admitted. "But eventually I found this neat plant that was only a _little_ bit dangerous. It's got big leaves that are just like real paper! Most of those are from that, that's why the pieces are so leaf-shaped."

Sanji nodded, taking this a little too calmly for Usopp, who would have liked at least a raised eyebrow and a mild exclamation over such good fortune. "Oh yeah, I was wondering about that. Good for you. Hey," he went on as he browsed further, "there's a lot of us in these too. Looks to me like you were drawing more old stuff than new stuff over there."

"I did not," protested Usopp, oddly self-conscious at this. Not that he thought there were anything wrong with all the nostalgic stuff he'd drawn on the island, nor of the impulses behind them. "I just wanted to show Heracles how you guys look and all..." He drummed his fingers on the workbench and looked away, wondering if he should ask for his drawings back already. 

"Mm," said Sanji pensively, leaning his back against the railing. "...I wouldn't mind," he added. 

Usopp looked up again. Sanji was looking out into the air and blowing out smoke, the stack of leaf-paper tucked under one arm.

"Huh?" asked Usopp reasonably, because if this was still about his drawings he didn't think it really fit into the conversation. "Mind what?"

Sanji dipped ash from his cigarette. "I mean..." he went on slowly, "I wouldn't mind it, if that had happened – if I'd been able to go to where you were that whole time. That weird island." He put the drawings back on the workbench, nodding at the pile. "Except…" He stopped.

Usopp stuffed the stack of paper inside the workbench, figuring he could return to the unfinished sketch later. "Except what?"

Sanji put his hands into his pockets and smiled, briefly and just a little wistfully. "Except, well… I never wanted to be someone who'd stop you from getting stronger." He looked off to the side a bit, shifting position and losing the smile. But his tone was easy as he added, rubbing the back of his neck, "Though maybe I have been at times, even so." 

"...oh." Usopp stilled a bit, at that. He had to admit it rang true. Sure, it would have been way neat to have had Sanji turning up at Bowin Island. And the island had been dangerous enough that Usopp would still have been forced to get stronger... but with Sanji around to hide behind it would probably have gone a good deal slower. He might well not have reached this level yet.

He let out a sigh, prompting Sanji to poke him in the temple. "Oi, why so gloomy?" 

Usopp rubbed his forehead. "I dunno, it's just that..." He sighed again. "It just sucks that we had to get separated for so long in order to get stronger, you know? Especially with Luffy, you know, after..." He trailed off, looking down at his hands, feeling colder though the air was still warm around him.

"Yeah," said Sanji roughly, stubbing out his cigarette. "But, well...it was how it was." He shrugged. "No point in going on about it."

"I'm not–!" Usopp opened and shut his mouth indignantly, then sputtered, " _You're_ the one who keeps going on about it, not me!"

Sanji huffed, then went and retrieved the bottle of beer. "I am not, moron. You're deluded. Anyway, let's go down to the galley, you're gonna help me make big evening sandwiches for everyone." He pointed out at something behind Usopp before the sniper could ask him anything. "Figure we're going to need our strength once that thing hits us, whatever it is."

"What..." Usopp spun around to see a bunch of huge, weird-looking, reddish-brown clouds amassing on the horizon. He gulped. "Whoa– we'd better tell Nami about that! Where is she?" 

"Over by the helm, but she already seems to know," said Sanji calmly, and Usopp took a deep breath and reminded himself that they were all stronger now, and Franky had had days in which to poke around with Sunny to make it stronger too. It would be all right. Maybe. Probably. 

They'd already made it down and into the galley when it hit him that Sanji seemed to be fine again now, and maybe that balance was already well on the way to be re-established. He glanced over at the cook, wondering, _Can I go back to mocking you now?_

But when he saw Sanji standing there, right in his element, whistling under his breath as he chopped up vegetables and cut up thin slices of cheese at extreme speed, all ready to make the best kind of sandwiches and maybe even infuse them with that new "hormone cooking" he'd been mumbling secretively about; then Usopp couldn't help but grin from ear to ear.

"Nah, I'll let you be a little longer," he said under his breath while he got up on a chair to bring down the jar of olives as ordered. 

"What was that?" Sanji gave him a suspicious look over his shoulder, now using the other shoulder than he would have two years ago. Usopp realised he'd already gotten used to Sanji's new look: it looked completely natural this way, now.

"Nothing," he said, grinning widely. "Nothing at all." He started to whistle as he took down the olives, already half forgetting the approaching storm.


End file.
